


Holiday Blues

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (? Slightly), Allergies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Baking, Best Friends, Blood and Gore, Canon Related, Childhood, Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Friendships, Dialogue Heavy, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, Hanukkah, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Cream, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, Prompt Fill, Protective Siblings, Season/Series 02, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Sibling Bonding, Sickfic, Snowball Fight, Temporary Muteness, Whump, kid!pidge (katie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-14 01:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12996927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: For the12 Days of VLD Whumpmas./ = romantic& = platonicDAY 1: Fever (Hunk/Keith)DAY 2: Indigestion (Hunk & Shiro)DAY 3: Hypothermia (Matt & Pidge)DAY 4: Tonsillitis (Hunk & Lance)DAY 5: Burns (Lance/Keith)DAY 6: Flu (Hunk & Pidge)DAY 7: Allergic Reaction (Shiro & Keith)





	1. I. Fever (Hunk/Keith)

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to challenge myself and write daily drabbles for this holiday event. check out the link in the description for more info / if you are interested in participating.

”Why’d you kiss my forehead again?” 

”Old-fashioned way of checking your temperature,” Hunk chides, wiping the salty taste of sweat from his lips as he pulls away. “Mom says that’s how they did it back then. They didn’t like using thermometers, apparently. Inaccurate or whatever.” 

Keith inclines his head backward. “Hmm.” He regards Hunk’s answer carelessly, and pulls his blanket up higher so it rests just below his chin. “I feel weird.” 

”Well, you feel pretty warm, if you ask me.” Hunk slumps down into the cushion next to Keith, careful not to disturb his array of comfortable pillows and heated blankets. “I think you’re coming down with something. Do you feel, like, a _bad_ weird?” 

A pause. Then, seeing that lying isn’t going to help, Keith mumbles out a “Yes.” There’s a sigh after that, one that’s disgruntled and almost angry-sounding. Keith sniffles and says, “Just great. I’m gonna be sick for Christmas.” 

”Welllll...” Hunk pulls Keith’s face close by his chin, and pecks a kiss to his forehead again. “You’re not burning up, at least. Could just be a seasonal thing. I know your body’s not very good at handling the cold, Keith.” 

”That still means I’m _sick_ , though.” Keith crosses his arms over his chest indignantly, but snuggles closer into Hunk’s side. “Maybe I just need something warm. Do we have hot chocolate?” 

”Mmm...” Keith sees Hunk tap his pointer fingers together, and then lick his lips. “You bet. I bought some of that Godiva hot cocoa again.” 

”Godiva’s so damn good, Hunk.” 

”I know.” Hunk’s arm snakes its way behind Keith’s back, wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him even closer. “Hey, babe, is this— Does this feel okay?” 

Now, Keith hums approvingly into Hunk’s chest, and reaches his hand out to grab Hunk’s bigger, warmer one. “Yeah... Perfect. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” 

For a fleeting moment, the lull of the television disappears, and the blankets soothe the cold right out of Keith’s body; the frost and snow on the windows feel picturesque, and the lights of the small Christmas tree seem to blaze brighter than they had a moment ago. 

Yes, but it’s only for that moment. No more than a second later, the oven beeps in the kitchen, ripping them out of their stupors. Both of their stomaches growl in anticipation, but Hunk’s is just a little bit louder. 

”Oh!” he says, untangling himself from Keith’s limbs. “Guess my gingerbreads are done— You up for cookies and hot chocolate?” 

Keith groans, but smiles wearily up at Hunk, who’s already stood up and started stretching. “Always, big man.”


	2. II. Indigestion (Hunk & Shiro)

Shiro stumbles out of his room and into the hallway when the pain becomes too much. 

They’d all attended an extravagant feast down on Xentrexia 51-3, below where the ship is docked in stasis—it’s a planet with a blood moon and an umbra black sun, plagued by eclipses on the daily. The Xentrexians have incredible technology that’s almost hard to fathom, and their food is just as foreign. 

Of course, the paladins all have to be cordial—Allura and Shiro especially—so they eat whatever alien oddities the ruling council provides them. 

The problem is that Shiro’s just gotten back from being held hostage by the Galra _again_ , and that means he isn’t used to eating so much at a time, since he’d been practically deprived of food during his time as a prisoner. But he had still put a small smile on his face as he passed countless morsels between his lips (countless meals that surely didn’t agree with human anatomy)—ignoring the pain for the sake of establishing good relations. 

He can’t ignore the pain now, though, especially when it’s so sharp and piercing his stomach. Shiro has to brace himself against the walls every couple feet, his eyes straining in the darkness. It’s nearing what must be midnight—at least, that’s what it _feels_ like—and Shiro’s tried his hardest to push back the stomachache, to not show weakness that will inevitably make the others worry. 

The bathroom is close. With one hand clutching his stomach and the other gliding smoothly across the wall, Shiro slumps over to the front of the door. His head is foggy and he feels dazed, but he’s coherent enough that he can reach his arm out and click the control panel next to the door. 

He trudges inside, the door swiftly sliding back into place behind him—and he immediately throws himself to the sink counter, holding onto it like a lifeline. His eyes close and he breathes the humid air in deeply—until a voice interrupts him. 

”—Shiro?” It’s soft and almost disbelieving, and then suddenly Shiro feels big, warm arms slinging around his waist and shoulders so he doesn’t lose balance. He blinks away his spotty vision, his head perking up, and the reflection in the mirror is, of course, Hunk. “Uh— You don’t look so good.” 

”It was dinner,” Shiro says, almost as if he’s trying to be casual about it. 

But he answers too quick, and Hunk notices. Eyes narrowing, he gently spins him around and releases his grip. Shiro is dazed for a moment, wincing from the pain and nearly losing his balance again, but he stands strong of his own accord. 

Hunk opens his mouth again but then Shiro’s stomach growls, and he doubles over, arms wrapped around his abdomen. 

”Sh-Shiro!” Hunk’s clearly caught off guard by this, but his reflexes are quick and he catches Shiro’s chest in his arms—steadying him and supporting his weight. “Oh, man, this isn’t— This is _not_ good. Are you gonna puke?” 

Shiro offers up a half-hearted, limp shrug (Hunk finds it rather pitiful). “Ah— Maybe?” Hunk thinks Shiro’s tone sounds a little too light-hearted and calm, though—but maybe that’s just because Shiro’s the leader, always cool and collected in times of stress. 

There’s a burning sensation crawling up Shiro’s throat, a bubbling like he’s a volcano ready to blow. Another gurgle comes from his belly, and Shiro wheezes. 

“‘Maybe’ isn’t ‘no’, Shiro.” Shiro looks up, palm over his lower belly, and he sees Hunk narrowing his eyebrows at him, but it’s not out of anger—it’s out of genuine concern. 

”I—“ Shiro pauses. “I don’t feel so bad, Hunk, but I appreciate—“ 

“—Listen, just, just go sit at the toilet bowl. And I’ll go see if there’s some kind of Altean indigestion relief medicine in the medbay.” 

”You really don’t have to—“ But Hunk’s already pushing him to the toilet, lifting up the seat so Shiro can lean his head over it. Just in case, of course. It smells putrid—dear God, just the odor alone makes him want to throw up—but he wills his eyes closed and takes even breaths. 

”—I do have to. I want. I mean, you shouldn’t have to, like, deal with this alone. I wouldn’t want to.” 

Shiro hums. Hunk’s words put a strained smile on his face, but he doesn’t pull his face up from the bowl—instead, he lifts his arm up and shoots him a firm thumbs up. 

He hears Hunk laugh his good, warm laugh, and then his quickened footfall patters away from Shiro and down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually thought i wouldnt like writing this, but i’m quite happy with how this turned out. 
> 
> there needs to be more canon shiro and hunk friendship so sadly i will have to provide it myself in the form of fanfic


	3. III. Hypothermia (Matt & Pidge)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like... mild hypothermia bc i didnt wanna put a ton of ~angst~ 
> 
> also i know only minimal things about hanukkah so pls...feel free to correct me on things.

The first snow comes a week into December, and at the beginning it hardly even sticks to the ground; it’s cold, sure, and the wind chill’s never been more frigid, but the snow just won’t stay. 

Katie is at the ripe age of seven, and she’s impatient. She wants the snow to stay, and she wants to build snowmen and make snow angels and— 

”—Katie, dear!” 

Colleen steps halfway into the doorway, and her daughter whips around to face her, her lips in a pout. “Sweetie, you’ve been looking out the window for twenty minutes now! The snow won’t come right away.” 

”I know.” Even at her young age, Katie is bright and she’s damn well not afraid to remind everyone of that fact. “But I don’t wanna miss it, Mama.” 

Her mother smiles very lightly, and laughs gently. Colleen chimes, “You won’t miss it, dear. Come on, it’s dinner time. I made latkes, your favorite!” 

So Katie backs away from the windowsill, flicking her bangs out of her eyes as she scampers toward the kitchen. 

* * *

The second snow of December is permanent. 

Over the course of two days, a flurry of ice and snowflakes flow down from the heavens and cake the streets and roofs in a thick, white blanket. 

Katie is practically bouncing in her winter boots as Matt adjusts her scarf, lecturing her sternly about the dangers of playing in the snow too long—which she, as a child, is dutifully ignoring. 

Her brother’s watching her for the night: a crisp, late Saturday evening that Colleen and Sam have named their ‘date night’, which means Matt’s in charge and has to stay up all night looking over his sister and the house. 

Which means Matt has to play mom for the time being. 

”I wanna go, I wanna go!” pleads Katie, tugging on the hem of Matt’s puffy coat. He doesn’t budge an inch, but Katie is not one to back down. She keeps pulling, growling as she digs her heels into the hardwood floor. 

” _Katie_.” Matt has adopted a fake-serious tone, bending down to her height and waggling his finger stiffly. But he puffs out his cheeks, trying and failing to hold in a laugh. “Listen! You remember what Mom and Dad said, right?” He’s smiling cheekily. 

Katie squints up at him, crossing her arms. She shakes her head decisively after no clear answer comes to her. 

”They told us not to forget to light the menorah tonight!” Matt reaches down and grabs Katie’s much smaller hand, leading her away from the back door. 

”Oh,” she says, blinking and then following him to the small table near the front windows. “I knew that, dummy!” Katie sticks her tongue out as she settles on the big, leather chair next to the table. 

Matt grins and inches toward her—and he quickly lunges out to tickle her stomach and then her armpits, getting a heavy laugh out of the both of them. “Katie, I’ll tell Mom on you if you keep calling me names.” 

”Y-You won’t, Matt,” she gets out between a myriad of giggles, her head flying backwards into the soft cushion. She swipes at his arms, but Matt keeps tickling her. “S-Stop, stop—!” 

So her brother pulls back—still grinning—and grabs the lighter as Katie calms down. “Hey, how about you do it this time?” 

Katie lifts her arm with some hesitance, leaning the chair’s edge and using her other palm for balance against the glass-top table. Matt guides her hand to the lighter’s grip, and poises his finger over the trigger. Katie drags the tip of it to the fourth candle and Matt clicks the flame alive. 

She stares in awe and basks in the warmth. 

* * *

Afterwards, Matt bundles Katie in scarves and a thick hat and her down-feather coat, and then some snow pants for good measure. He really can’t risk something happening to her while their parents are out. 

Katie leaps outside into the Holts’ backyard, yelling in glee. The sun is close to setting, but there’s still enough light from the sun that it’s okay to be outside. Plus, Matt’s there too. 

”I wanna snowball fight!” She’s prancing around in the snow, her short legs and small feet proving inefficient in allowing her to run fast. Matt lags behind her, sticking his tongue out to feel the falling snowflakes. “Matt—!” Katie is almost whining now, turning her body around and then collapsing back into a pile of snow. 

She makes snow angels while Matt watches, and then after a while he goes over to her and offers a hand to help her up. 

”Okay, little sis— But you’re gonna lose.” 

”No-o-o!” Katie is already darting away as best she can, giggling and hiding behind a tree. “I’m gonna get you!” 

So the theatrics start, and even though neither of them can make a proper snowball to save their lives, they end up pelting snow at each other and chasing each other around the yard for a while. 

And after that, they make a small snowman that’s more square-shaped than round, and they build a giant mound of snow in the middle of the lawn. There’s laughing and at one point Katie tackles Matt to the ground and buries him in snow. 

All the fun ends almost too soon, and the sun is nearly down, and Katie—the once eager Katie—already wants to go back inside. Matt can see her shivering and clutching her tiny arms over her body, trying to mask the discomfort with a happy face. 

Matt frowns. “Katie, you don’t look so good.” He crouches down to her level, and brings his hands up to cup her cheeks. His gloves warm them only slightly, but even without skin-to-skin contact he can tell she’s deathly cold. 

”M’no...” Her teeth are chattering together, and her pupils dart away from his gaze. 

” _Katie_.” Matt shakes her slightly, pulling her closer. “I’m being serious.” 

”I’m c-cold, Matt.” 

Her brother instinctively wraps his arms around her and lifts her up; his embrace warms Katie only a bit, providing some type of body heat to keep her body from shutting down. “Hey, it’ll be okay— We’ll go inside and get the heated blankets and make hot chocolate.” 

”O-Okay...” 

Her voice is tired and pitiful, and Matt’s face pales. He knows he’s blaming himself, but he can’t help but feel that he should’ve given her more clothing to wear, maybe hand warmers and breaks to go back inside. But he’d overlooked that, and it’s too late to go back on it now. 

Matt swings the door open, Katie still clutched to his chest, and he flicks the lights on. “Y-Yeah, and I’ll warm up some soup for you, and the latkes... And everything’s gonna be fine.” 

Katie’s already sleeping soundly against him, her cheeks turning rosy, and Matt kisses her forehead as he sets her down on the couch.


	4. IV. Tonsillitis (Hunk & Lance)

”Hey, man, look on the bright side—“ 

Hunk just looks at him bitterly, an unamused and sour pout on his lips. 

”—at least you get to eat a ton of ice cream.” Lance offers up a awkward smile, praying Hunk won’t pound him. 

Currently, Hunk isn’t allowed to speak, and when he must, his voice is incredibly cracked and hoarse. It’s only two days after the tonsillectomy, after all. 

Lance is sleeping over for the weekend, and insists on spoiling Hunk until he’s healed. Part of that includes cheering him up and keeping him company. 

So Lance had settled down with Hunk on his living room couch, burying him in blankets and dimming the Christmas tree lights. He’s also turned the heater up to high and drawn the drapes open wide so they can stare at the gently falling snow. 

”What kind of ice cream do you want me to buy?” asks Lance, bringing his knees up to his chest and tucking them under his chin. He’s jiggling his keys around in his pocket almost impatiently. 

Hunk sets his DS down on his lap and raises one brow, annoyed; he reaches for his white board and dry erase marker but then Lance frantically waves his hands. 

”N-No! I wanna guess!” 

Hunk hangs his head and picks his game up again, gluing his eyes back to the screen. Lance frowns at him but inches closer next to him. 

”Rocky road?” 

Hunk shakes his head, not even looking up. 

”What? But I thought that was your favorite!” 

An indignant shrug comes from Hunk. 

”Let’s see, then... Chocolate peanut butter?” 

Again, he shakes his head, this time with the beginnings of a cruel smirk making his lips curl up. 

”Oh, come _on_!” Lance throws his head back dramatically, and Hunk snickers silently. “Okay, okay... Do you want strawberry? Mint chocolate chip? Superman?” 

Three more head shakes. Lance sulks. 

”Dammit, Hunk, you don’t have to be this difficult on purpose.” 

Beside him, Hunk playfully sticks his tongue out. Lance slides closer so he can lean his cheek against Hunk’s bicep. 

Hunk is dragging the stylus across the screen, tapping on various menu options. Lance watches curiously, but still huffs out a defeated breath. “Pokémon? Seriously?” 

Hunk’s head tilts toward him and he shoots him a dirty look. Then, he tosses his DS onto the couch cushion and finally resorts to picking up the white board. 

_Hey. Don’t you make fun of Pokémon Diamond. It shaped a generation._

Lance only snorts at that, crossing his arms firmly. “Whatever.” 

Hunk frowns, and continues playing his game. And Lance still watches, not really knowing what’s happening exactly. 

After a few more minutes of this, a smile blossoms on Hunk’s face again, and he grabs his black marker. He taps Lance on the shoulder, beckoning for his attention. 

”Yeah, big guy?” 

Hunk starts scribbling, his smile becoming all the more devious. 

_There’s already ice cream in the fridge. It’s peppermint._

Lance’s eyebrows quirk up. “What, is it like, a festive thing?” 

But he’s already getting up and stalking toward the kitchen. 

Abruptly, Hunk’s hesitant, grainy voice perks up, ”Hey, Lance—“ He clears his throat, and coughs. “Thanks.” 

”Yeah.” Lance smiles broadly, his cheeks flushing. “S’no big deal.”


	5. V. Burns (Lance/Keith)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao did someone say angst??? ;)))) well i am here to provide
> 
> anyway i always forget that keith pilots black now... so i guess this takes place in season 2

It’s an accident that happens after battle, when the dust has nearly settled but their minds had still been whirring with adrenaline. The emotions hadn’t left, and Keith had stormed back into Red’d hangar with a hurricane brewing in his irises. 

The red lion is malfunctioning. Keith doesn’t full realize it but the Galra pulse from the command ship had messed with Red—has temporarily made the controls go all wonky. 

And although Keith had exited the machine rather quickly, that’d been the exact problem. There was a heat from Red when she’d lowered her head down, the metal atoms vibrating and sending steam off into the air. 

Her jaw had only barely grazed Keith’s cheek as he exited her, but that was all it took. 

The hangar floor is a cool metal and his skin is scorching against it still, cheek pressed to it even though it’s really no relief. 

He’s screaming. He can’t move himself upright. _It hurts_ more than anything he’s ever felt. 

He screams until his voice give out an becomes a hoarse, harsh shriek, and then goes silent with pain. 

Writhing. Squirming. 

Keith can’t feel his limbs (the sharp pain in his face is too intense). The flesh on his cheek must be melting from the after burn. It’s so hot that he can’t feel anything at all, but at the same time his sense are overwhelmed. 

Arms collect him, but Keith is numb and limp. His ears are ringing, his cheek is ripe and raw. He’s sure his face must be sizzling pink. Those arms curl around his waist and shout questions he can’t hear or comprehend. 

Lance is trembling and shaking him, but Keith can’t hear him. His vision swims and his skin sticks to the metal beneath him. Keith tried to pull away in shock and panic, but it stings his face and he cries out. “K-Keith— Don’t, don’t move!” 

Lance has to swathe burn cream and a pain-relieving agent against his cheek, and gently peel him away once he quits tensing up. “Keith— I got you.”


	6. VI. Flu (Hunk & Pidge)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i’m. quickly finishing these last few days of this event really quick bc today’s the “last day” of the event. so i just wanna write for the remaining 5 days. 
> 
> not gonna be as long, obviously, but i hope you enjoy it regardless!

”Oh, would you quit it?” 

This is the fourth time Hunk’s tried to lug himself out of bed, insisting that he’s fine and that Pidge shouldn’t fret over him—least of all actually _dote_ on him nearly every second of the day. 

”No, Pidge, I will not ‘quit it’ because—because I’m really _perfectly okay_ and not sick or—“ 

”—Shut up,” she says blandly, sticking her arm out, blocking him from moving. And although she’s not strong enough to physically stop him like that, Hunk concedes and flops back onto the bed. “I’m not letting you go anywhere.” 

Hunk shoots her a tired pout, to which Pidge sticks her tongue out at. “I hate feeling crappy.” 

”Well, does anyone actually like being sick?” 

”I would if it meant I could skip school.” Hunk puts his arms behind his head, leaning back into the plush pillows and heaving a breath. “But, y’know...no school in space. Plus, I hate not doing anything. What if there’s an attack or something, and we need Voltron? And I can’t go pilot because I’m sick and all?” 

Eventually Hunk’s gaze finds Pidge’s, and she furrows her brows. “Do you feel well enough to fly?” 

His answer isn’t immediate: “Meh.” 

Pidge frowns. “It’ll be fine. Maybe we won’t have to use Voltron.” 

”But maybe we will.” 

” _Hunk_.” While Pidge crosses her arms, Hunk does look at her a little apologetically as he adjusts the blankets swaddled around his body. He sneezes. “Stop working yourself up over things like that. If you get all stressed it’ll just take longer for you to heal up.” 

”I know.” Then he sniffles. His voice sounds more nasally than before. Pidge begins tapping away at some tablet Coran had given her, and Hunk cranes his neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the screen. “Sooooo have you guys found any medicine for whatever I have?” 

Pidge says briskly, “No yet. We still have to look at all the data from the recent planets we’ve visited, because obviously this is some kind of illness from a foreign planet... Not just any old Earth flu that we’re used to.” She reaches out to pat his shoulder, a half-smirk crawling up the right corner of her mouth. “Good thing you’ve got such high immunity.” 

Hunk’s laugh is warm, and makes the atmosphere just a little bit brighter. “Yeah. But if it was higher, maybe I wouldn’t be holed up in bed, and then you wouldn’t have to waste everyone’s time taking—“ 

Pidge shakes her head, shoving one of her thin fingers against Hunk’s lips. “It’s not a waste if you’re not feeling well. And...switching off helps. Speaking of, Lance should be coming in soon.” She tilts her head to face Hunk again, and he’s fidgeting with his fingers. “What?” 

”Nothing.” 

”...You can just say it.” 

”I don’t like being sick and feeling like a burden. I mean, I can take care of myself.” 

Pidge mulls over this. “Yeah but— You tend to overwork yourself when you shouldn’t, because you’re sick and you pretend like you’re not.” She sucks in a breath, eyes drifting away again until they rest on Hunk again, who now has a crease in his brows. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t be accusing you of stuff when you’re stuck in bed.” 

”No, I get it.” She sees his shoulders give, a little bit of the tension flowing out of them. “I’ll be more careful next time, deal?” 

”Only if you tell us the next time you don’t feel too hot.” 

Hunk nods. 

”It’s a deal, then.”


	7. VII. Allergic Reaction (Shiro & Keith)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the rapidfire posting continues.

It’s the beginning of July, the beginning of summer, and Shiro comes back home for the vacation time allotted to all Galaxy Garrison students. 

At the ripe age of seventeen, maybe no one would’ve expected Shiro to actually enjoy spending time with his ten-year-old brother, but the reality is the exact opposite. 

Their family sets up an above-ground pool every year; it’s slightly oval-shaped, and about five feet deep. The ladder leading up to it is sturdy and a light beige color, and it reminds Shiro of the sand on the beach. On the inside of the pool, the bottom is a dark navy, and the thick fabric of the perimeter is a fake tile pattern with all different shades of blue. 

Both Shiro and Keith like to swim in there. It’s one of their favorite activities, and every time Shiro visits from school he makes sure they play in there together at least a few times a week. 

Shiro’s watching Keith, currently, after he’d already went in the water for a few laps. He’s sitting in the shade of a tree, doing something on his Garrison-issued tablet that he won’t tell Keith. He’s always teased him about the Garrison like that, holding it above his head where he can’t reach. 

The sun is scorching, and Shiro has already had to apply double layers of sunscreen on Keith’s pale, burnable skin, and yeah, it’s pretty annoying to constantly do it, but he’ll do it. 

” _Shiro_.” Keith is hanging onto the edge of the pool, arms swung over the railing and chin propped up against it. His chubby cheeks stick out the most, as they always do, and there’s a pout on his face. “Come back in.” 

Shiro hums, putting away his stylus but still fiddling with an app, clicking away on the keyboard. “Not right now, buddy. I just have a couple more problems on this research assignment.” 

Keith audibly growls, but it’s just too cute for Shiro to be mad. Instead, he laughs, dragging his knees up closer to his abdomen. “Hang on for a few more minutes.” 

There’s some movement, some splashing, and when Shiro looks up he sees his little brother climbing out of the pool. “What is it, Keith? Wanna go inside?” 

Keith nods sharply, stepping down into grass. He’s already beginning to walk towards the back door. “If you won’t play with me, then I want lunch, Shiro.” 

He rolls his eyes, submitting his assignments, turning his tablet off, and then standing up. “Fine, let’s—“ 

Suddenly there’s a dull scream, not too loud but enough to grab Shiro’s attention. His head whips around and he finds Keith on the ground, both hands clutching his left foot. 

It isn’t long before Shiro has rushed over, and he’s about to start prodding him for information when Keith says in a shaky voice, “I st-stepped on a b-bee, Shiro.” 

Shiro’s eyes widen because— _Keith’s allergic to bees_. After he go stung as a kid and they’d found out about this, they’d been careful not to let him go near beed, had use repellants and taken away any hives in their yard. This hasn’t happened to Shiro, not when he’s at home without their parents. 

”W-Well, ah— Let’s get you inside.” Shiro hides the panic and lifts Keith up, carrying him until they’re in the safety of the living room. He deliberates calling their mom, but right now it’s more important to treat Keith. 

He drops Keith onto the couch, and inspects his foot. There’s a definite sting, which makes Shiro’s heart thump just a little bit faster. But he takes a deep breath, and then flicks the fan on. 

Shiro crouches down to his level, smiling. “Does your throat feel tight?” 

”A little bit...” Keith’s cheeks look a little bit red and puffy. 

”Okay, sit tight, buddy. I’m going to get your medicine.” Shiro ruffles his hair and goes back upstairs.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr [@usabuns](http://usabuns.tumblr.com), twitter [@usabuns](https://mobile.twitter.com/usabuns) ❤️


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